


in the shadow of a damaged heart

by illemuise



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, frobin does not have amnesia, lots of queer shepherds in this one lads, lucina knows robin is grima, rewriting lucina and a non-mother frobin's relationship, the suicide stuff is all in later chapters and i will warn appropriately, this is NOT a frobin/lucina ship fic but the game disappointed me with their supports so here i am!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-05-07 03:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14662716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illemuise/pseuds/illemuise
Summary: Lucina didn't know what she had expected of the Shepherds. She especially didn't know what she had expected of Robin. All of her memories of her godsmother had been tainted by everything that came next. In this, the second chance Lucina snatched from the jaws of time itself, she's determined not to let Robin destroy the world all over again.She is surprised to find that Robin is equally determined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "I'm Not Your Hero" by Tegan and Sara, a song I listen to a lot when I want to feel emo about Robin's mom and also the future past in general.
> 
> This fic is a labor of love that stems from how hopelessly disappointed I was in Lucina's supports with f!Robin. I've seen a lot of interpretations to try and fix it. This one's mine. The basics of the canon divergence are in the tags: Robin does not have amnesia, and Lucina knows Robin is Grima. 
> 
> As for the suicide in the tags: there will be discussions of a previous suicide attempt, as well as an on-screen one. The method is poison, and the scene is mildly graphic but unsuccessful. I will warn in the notes of the chapter the scene is in, and provide a plot summary at the end, if you'd like to skip the chapter but want to read the fic. Stay safe!

Arena Ferox, filled to the brim with people drinking and shouting and betting on the outcome of the Khan’s tournament, seemed to press in on Lucina from all sides. It was overwhelming in every sense: full of more people than she ever remembered seeing in one place, stinking of sweat and blood from the earlier bouts, the cacophony of fighting loud enough to shake her bones. Even the decor was too much in the half-light, too many shadows and too much gold. The room was sweltering, even with the fresh air filtering down from the grated skylight. Khan Basilio’s other champions had rushed forward to greet the Shepherds, but Lucina hung back, observing.

A second encounter with the man who would become her father was no less overwhelming than the first, but at a distance, without his attention fixed on her, Lucina could watch the others, especially the woman - Lucina’s own godsmother - at Chrom’s back. Robin was focused on fighting, but in the brief lulls her eyes flicked to Lucina, her gaze heavy and unsettling. Lucina wondered what Robin saw, and what she thought of it. Robin’s voice echoed over the din of the fight as she called orders, and Lucina didn’t remember much of what Robin sounded like before a god’s voice forced its way up her too-small throat but it felt achingly familiar in a way that set her on edge.

It didn’t help that Lucina’s mother was here. Not on the field - up in the stands, with Basilio. She’d seen her when she defeated Lon’qu, hovering anxiously at the edge of the arena, sticking close to the Khan. Olivia was so young, face smooth like Lucina had never seen it, but she could see where the worry lines would set in later as Lon’qu stalked away after the fight, spitting like an angry cat. Now, Olivia’s presence was an added distraction. Lucina wanted to look at her while the Shepherds were preoccupied with the rest of Basilio’s forces, but it would be tantamount to handing Flavia the throne. More importantly, it wouldn’t allow Lucina the chance to test Chrom, to see if she had a candle’s chance in the wind of changing his fate.

Finally, the last of the grunts Basilio had sent into the arena with Lucina fell, dragging themselves and each other out of the way of the encroaching Shepherds. None of Khan Flavia’s champions were seriously hurt. Lucina could see the benefits of Robin’s strategy, the way Lissa had been completely surrounded by allies, keeping them healthy while they kept her out of harm’s way. The formation worked as long as the enemy would charge, and broke only now that Lucina had demonstrated she would not.

Chrom and Robin took point while Lissa hung back, patching up a nasty-looking cut on Sully’s arm. Lucina recognized the scar it would leave from faint memories of playing with Kjelle before everything went to hell. The whole thing was surreal - seeing the history engraved on her parents’ bodies playing out. Lucina felt dizzy when she thought about it for too long, so instead she settled into a defensive stance, light on the balls of her feet.

Chrom’s first swing hit Lucina’s Falchion with bruising force, almost pushing her across the blood- and sweat-slick arena floor. She took a brief moment to thank the gods both Falchions were indestructible, or surely one of them would have snapped, before hurriedly disengaging to dodge a blast of lightning from her unguarded side. Robin.

Fighting Chrom in itself was difficult enough, dodging his questions even more so, but Robin made it near-impossible to avoid injury. Lucina gave her father half-truths, only managed to parry most of his swings because of tells he’d warned her about in the brief time they’d shared in the future, and tried to strike at Robin, but Chrom was an iron wall between them. There was no way to get around him, and no way to keep dodging the magic.

Desperate, Lucina feinted right and lunged left. She caught Chrom just barely off guard, scoring a hit low on his side and wincing at his pained gasp. Her falter at the sight of his blood on her blade left her open for a half-second too long, and she caught a blast of thunder to the torso she’d left unguarded with her full-body lunge. Lucina barely managed to keep a grasp on Falchion as she was sent sprawling ungracefully across the tile, her breath knocked out of her.

Rolling, she was up in an instant, instinct honed in a doomed world preventing her from staying down even as she frantically gasped for air her lungs wouldn’t take. Left arm wrapped across her torso, she settled back into her stance, even as the hand holding Falchion shook and her eyes filled with panicked tears. She knew this feeling. She had had the wind knocked out of her before. She just needed to fight through the panic.

But the next attack didn’t come. After a moment that felt like it stretched into eternity, Lucina’s breath started to return to her, and as her vision settled she saw Chrom watching her from a few feet away, hand held out to bar Robin from attacking again. It didn’t seem necessary; Robin was just watching, gaze heavy again in a way that made Lucina’s skin crawl. Why hadn’t she continued to attack? Her tome was closed, held loosely in her hand. The look on Robin’s face wasn’t quite concern, but it wasn’t calculating either. It wasn’t like a war tactician to let an advantage like this pass.

As she took her first full, shuddering breath, Lucina remembered that Robin was not yet a war tactician.

Steadying on her feet, Lucina went on the offensive, thrusting toward the spot on Chrom she’d already hit, knowing it was a weak spot in his guard. But she was still clumsy, and he parried easily, sending her stumbling past him and hitting her hard between the shoulder blades with the pommel of Falchion. Gasping, she overbalanced, crashing to the floor again. When she tried to get up, she found a boot pressed to the back of her neck.

Turning her head against the tile, she found Robin, a hand full of crackling energy extended toward her. “Do you yield, Marth?”

“I yield,” Lucina gasped, and the boot withdrew. She rolled onto her back, still panting from the fight and the fall. Robin had a hand extended to help her up.

Lucina stared at it dumbly. Robin was smiling, just a little. She had the beginnings of a black eye and a split lip, but was largely unharmed. Over her shoulder, Lissa was already tending to the superficial wound Lucina had given Chrom. The warm look on Robin’s face, the fading panic in Lucina’s head - it all added up too suddenly, and Lucina felt the world teetering away from her all at once. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real - Grima had no warmth in its eyes.

Robin’s attention was called away, Chrom grabbing her and joyfully thrusting their clasped hands into the air to the roaring approval of the crowd. Lucina scrambled to her feet and dashed to the shadows between the pillars at the edges of the arena floor. From the other side, she could already see Lon’qu and the Khans approaching the Shepherds.

The throbbing pain in her torso, both from Robin’s magic and Chrom’s blow, was the only thing Lucina felt sure was real. The rest of this was so impossible, so overwhelming. The image of Robin, wary but concerned as Lucina couldn’t breathe, warm and offering a hand, all while Lucina knew she was walking a path that led to Grima - it was too much. She needed air.

The coming wars must have turned Robin into a woman who would turn to Grima for power. It was impossible to reconcile her face with that of the fell dragon otherwise.

Outside of the Arena, Lucina’s nerves finally started to settle. The cold was harsh, worse for the sweat on her exposed face, but it dulled the ache in her back and helped her feel real again. The snow crunched under her feet, a familiar sound. 

She felt her lips quirk up. If nothing else, this had told her everything she needed to know about her father’s combat ability. She could regroup now, nurse her wounds, and head to Ylisstol to start trying to ferret out Emmeryn’s would-be assassins. Lucina allowed herself a touch of optimism now that she had experienced the force of nature that was her father. Maybe this would be possible after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emmeryn doesn't get assassinated.

The night her aunt was to die, Lucina found herself entranced, watching from the shadow of a tree as Robin and her father shared a conversation she couldn’t hear. Why didn’t Robin kill him now, if power was what she wanted? She could blame it on the assassins that drew closer even now, once she knew they were there. Lucina had often wondered, back in her own time, why Chrom had survived an attempt on his life when he was alone with Robin at the time. Grievously wounded, it would have been so easy to finish him off.

But here they were, just talking. Lucina wished she could read their lips, but with her mask and the distance between them, it wasn’t possible. Despite her fears for Chrom’s safety, she was loathe to interrupt them. Regardless of their respective marriages in her own time, Lucina had heard rumors about Chrom and his mysterious Plegian tactician. She knew her worries were irrational - in the future, Chrom had shown no romantic interest in Robin, and Robin had never shown interest in any man at all. But for their relationship to proceed as it had in Lucina’s time, to be _sure_ that they remained strictly platonic, their conversations must not be interfered with.

Finally, Chrom and Robin wandered close enough for Lucina to hear them. “She _is_ peace,” Chrom was saying. Talking about Emmeryn, then. “But some men would take advantage of that,” he continued. “Men like King Gangrel. The day he understands peace will be the day death gives it to him.”

A signal - a flash of light above Chrom’s head, in one of the windows of the palace. Lucina would have to act soon - the assassin in the bushes to her right certainly would.

“Emmeryn would never order him killed,” Chrom was saying. “Nor would I wish her to.”

Quashing the knot of anxiety in her chest, Lucina stepped forward, out of the shadows. “Well spoken, sir,” she said, pitching her voice as low as she could. Her father jumped, startled; Robin’s gaze flicked to Lucina and held steady. If she was startled, she didn’t show it.

“The Exalt’s life is in danger,” Lucina warned. It was a struggle to keep her voice low and even. She wanted to lunge forward, to grab her father, to _yell_ that Emmeryn was about to die. But to touch Chrom would be to invite disaster. She had no idea how long she could even stand in his presence without completely breaking down.

Chrom frowned. “What, Emmeryn? That’s absurd. She’s guarded at all hours.”

Robin was silent. The calculating edge was back in her eye. Her gaze felt like a physical thing to Lucina, stirring up the anxiety she was so desperate to suppress. She felt like throwing up right there in the courtyard.

But she couldn’t. She needed to convince Chrom to get back inside, to Emmeryn. “What if…” there was no way to avoid this. She couldn’t lie fast enough. Gods above, would this be it? The line that killed her father again and doomed them all? She’d been waiting for a mistake since the moment she stepped through the portal into the past. It felt so foolish, yet she couldn’t say anything else. “What if I told you I have seen the future? Would you believe me? A future where Emmeryn is killed. Here. Tonight.”

“Seen the future? Have you lost your wits?” He didn’t seem angry, if nothing else. Lucina struggled to focus. Robin’s gaze was traveling slowly over her, and Lucina knew she was taking in the state of her, filthy in clothes that had been mended too many times, too thin from years of tight rations and uncontrollable fear. Did Robin see anything trustworthy there? Did she see a threat? A threat to whom?

Lucina sighed. She had to stay focused. “Yes, I expected you wouldn’t believe me. So let me prove it.” She drew her sword in one measured motion. Chrom went for his immediately, and Robin produced a tome out of nowhere, but Lucina made no move to attack. “I’m about to save your life,” she intoned as calmly as she could. She gestured over her shoulder, to the bush the assassin was crouched in. “From him.”

The assassin burst forward, probably just hoping to score a hit now that he’d been exposed. Lucina dispatched him easily, in the acrobatic style her father had taught her - no point in doing this any other way, if he’d noticed the similarities in their techniques back in Regna Ferox. 

“I trust this proof will suffice?” She asked, flicking her blade to the side in an indulgence of style.

“Y-yeah,” Chrom said, nodding. _No,_ said Robin’s frown, but before she could say anything a second assassin burst from the bush. Lucina whirled around, started to raise her sword to defend herself, but she slipped on the dead assassin’s blade, falling backwards just fast enough that the assassin’s slash caught her mask, whipping it off and apart. Stumbling, feeling her ankle twist beneath her, Lucina barely caught her balance as Chrom rushed forward to dispatch the second assassin himself.

Lucina didn’t realize her cover was blown until Chrom turned to face her, shock written across his face. “Wait, you’re - you’re a woman?”

Nothing for it now. “And quite the actress, too,” Lucina shrugged, aiming for an airy tone. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out until just now.” Especially with Lon’qu in the Shepherds; with the way he’d suddenly stiffened and stumbled in their duel, Lucina was sure he’d figured her out.

They were cut short when a loud _boom_ came from the castle. _Emmeryn._ Lucina took off for Emmeryn’s rooms, barely hearing Chrom and Robin start after her over the pounding in her ears. 

She stationed herself before the Exalt’s door, snapping to the Shepherds that Panne wasn’t their enemy and hoping Chrom would get to Gaius before anyone else did. Falchion’s glow was unsettling - she’d never seen it do this before - but it didn’t compromise the sword’s ability to be a sword, so she did her best to ignore it. She settled into a familiar defensive stance. None would get through her.

But none got _to_ her. Here, too, Robin’s strategy was impregnable; she had both ends of the hallway walled off, with accomplished physical fighters like Lon’qu and Kellam up front and mages behind them for backup, with Panne, Gaius, and Chrom manning the other door to Emmeryn’s room. Lissa, Maribelle, and Robin herself ran between them, the clerics keeping the frontliners healthy and Robin offering more backup when enemy mages came too close. It all added up to plenty of opportunity for Lucina to overthink, alone in the castle she’d grown up in with her back to her aunt’s door.

That door stretched to impossible proportions in her mind’s eye as she began to think too hard about the woman behind it. All her life Lucina had been told about the woman her aunt had been, kind and forgiving, a faultless leader and a flawless sister. Since Lucina never got to meet her, Emmeryn had been the impossible standard, the endless yardstick against which Lucina measured herself when Ylisse had fallen to her. And now she was right on the other side of that door. If they met, if Lucina could tell Emmeryn the truth, would she believe her? Would she welcome Lucina into her family with open arms? Lucina had often stopped by Emmeryn’s grave to pray before Ylisstol fell, seeing her long-dead aunt as a more approachable divine force than Naga. What advice could the real Emmeryn offer her?

But a relationship with this Emmeryn wasn’t hers to build, Lucina reminded herself. Even if she could save to the Exalt, she belonged to the Lucina who wasn’t born yet. However hungry Lucina was for the guidance and love of the people who came before her, to reach out and take them would be to steal from her younger self. Better to keep her distance. She thought of Gerome; he would know how to handle this. It was why she’d taken a mask from him in the first place. Now that it was gone, she wasn’t sure if she could channel his stoicism with the open air on her face.

The time before the last assassin lay dead on the floor, his cries of wrongness still echoing off the halls, felt like years and moments. When she was certain Emmeryn was safe, Lucina slipped away to the courtyard outside. She didn’t think she could last much longer on the other side of a simple wooden door from the family she’d lost without running to their arms.

In the courtyard, she found Robin, leaning backwards against the wall and gasping for breath. At some point in the fray, she’d removed her coat, and it was pooled on the grass next to her. Lucina was briefly concerned, but the blood on Robin’s face wasn’t her own, and though she was favoring her left leg, she was standing. The only other injury Lucina could see on her was a mild burn on one arm that would heal without scarring. What was more concerning was that Robin had already noticed her and straightened at her passing.

“You’re leaving before Chrom can thank you, so I suppose I have to do it,” Robin panted. “Thank you, in all seriousness. The Exalt would be dead if not for you - and who knows what would have become of Chrom?”

“He’d live,” Lucina reassured her without thinking, “but he’d be wounded. Badly. His leg would be a weak point for him for the rest of his life.”

Robin was silent for a long moment. “Since you’ve seen the future, and all. Am I safe here?”

“Safe?” Lucina frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The Grimleal.” Robin sighed gustily and leaned back against the wall again. “They’ve been after me my whole life. I want to know if they’ll find me here. The sorcerer leading the assassins tonight - he was one of them. I think he might have been my father - he matched my mother’s descriptions, anyway, and he recognized me, and that’s a whole ‘nother freakout for later. But he seemed surprised to see me. So am I safe here?”

Lucina hadn’t considered that Robin might fear the Grimleal, too. Considering what happened later, she’d expected Robin to embrace them, to seek them out. But she knew almost nothing about Robin’s early life. She had always been told that it wasn’t a tale for a child’s ears. “Even if they found you, the Shepherds would never let them have you.”

“Not something you saw in your time, then.”

Lucina felt her blood turn to ice. “My...time?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” Robin said, waving her hand like it was nothing. “I didn’t know what was up with you until tonight. But it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big - how did you figure it out?!” Lucina heard her voice climbing in panic but could do nothing to stop it. Her hands and legs were numb, her stomach liquid.

Robin fixed her with a look. It wasn’t the calculating one, but it was still heavy. Lucina had no idea what to make of it. “Chrom and Lissa said you popped out of a portal in the sky.” Robin counted her reasons off on her fingers. “You have Falchion, a one-of-a-kind sword that Chrom also has. You fight identically to him, and said your father taught you. You’re the spitting image of Chrom - I mean, your mouth’s a little different, but you’ve got his nose and jaw. You show up tonight talking about how you’ve seen the future - not that you _can_ see it, but that you _have._ And you have the Brand of the Exalt.” Self consciously, Lucina touched a knuckle to the skin under her eye. “I didn’t think it was possible to travel through time, since the Grimleal can’t, and their magic pushes the limits of what’s possible. But I guess Miriel’s right about assumptions.”

Robin was referring to a speech Lucina had heard Laurent parrot many a time. _Conclusions must be based on data. Assumptions and anecdotes about “how the world works” are not data. Whatever the data supports must be the truth._

“And you’re not going to tell anyone?” Lucina couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice. _“Why?”_

“Same reason Lon’qu didn’t tell anyone you were a woman,” Robin shrugged.

Lucina took a deep breath. So she’d been right about him. “Which is…?”

“Someone with a woman’s body, dressed like a man, taking a man’s name, and asking to be addressed like a man? He assumed you had your reasons. Had you wanted everyone to think you a woman, you’d have presented yourself as such.” Another shrug. “Even if you weren’t Chrom’s magic time traveling daughter, you’ve now saved the entire royal family. If you thought it was a good idea for them to know who you are, you’d have told them. I don’t know the whole story. You’ve earned enough trust for me to defer to your judgment on this.”

Her argument made sense, but it felt too good to be true. “I’m...not sure what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Robin’s face softened into a smile, before she frowned again and stared down at her hands, twisting together in front of her belt. “I, uh. I hope you don’t mind, but I do have a question.” And there it was - the catch.

Lucina felt her guard raise again, and she could tell Robin saw it. “I might not answer.”

“You don’t have to,” Robin assured her. “Just - I assume we haven’t met your mother yet? Chrom seems...well. He doesn’t seem the type to suddenly develop feelings for someone he’s known for a while.”

Lucina frowned. “That’s right.” Robin all but deflated in visible relief. “Why do you ask? You’re not...I mean, you don’t…”

“No! No.” To Lucina’s surprise, Robin was blushing. “No, I just - I wanted to know if - um. Sorry. I’m just. Well. Interested in someone? But…”

Ah. Lucina thought of Cynthia, repeating the tale of her parent’s courtship, prolonged by the fact that neither of them had been able to pluck up the courage to confess for nearly a year. Of course Sumia’s old crush on Chrom would have been a barrier for Robin. “No. I don’t even know why I asked - I know the last thing you want is a husband. You haven’t met my mother yet.”

Robin’s blush intensified. Lucina distantly wondered if a vein in her face might pop. “Oh. Uh. Good.”

“Are you...not curious about how I knew you don’t want a husband?” Lucina asked.

“I don’t need a time traveler to tell me I’m going to marry a woman someday,” Robin said, rolling her eyes. “It’s fine. Thank you for answering.”

Lucina opened her mouth to reply, but she was cut off by distant yelling from inside the castle. Robin’s name, and it sounded like Lissa.

Robin smiled and seemed surprised at herself for it. “They’re looking for me. You should get going - Chrom will try to corner you and offer you a lordship if you’re not careful.”

“I...shouldn’t talk to him more than I absolutely have to,” Lucina said softly. “I’ll try to avoid him.”

“Quickly, now.” Robin shooed Lucina off at the sound of encroaching voices. Lucina melted back into the shadows as quickly as she could, and she didn’t hear Robin calling back to the other Shepherds until there was a layer of decorative shrubbery between Lucina and the castle.

She couldn’t help but dwell on the conversation as she slipped out of the hole in the castle wall. While it was true that she remembered almost nothing of Robin before the war, she’d had...expectations for what she would be like. Robin had been a doting godsmother when she’d had the time, but her tactics could be so ruthless in the grueling Valmese campaign. Lucina had expected to see at least some of that darkness in Robin as she was today.

The Robin she’d seen tonight was nothing like any of that. Quick, of course, and observant - Lucina still couldn’t believe Robin had _figured out_ she was Chrom’s daughter returned from the future - but timid, too. The type of woman to worry about whether a blossoming crush was reciprocated. The type of woman to wait for her winded opponent to regain her feet. And, under all of that, _afraid_ of the Grimleal.

Strange. And kind of nice, too, that someone knew - that Lucina wasn’t carrying this enormous weight entirely alone, because even if Robin didn’t know the specifics, she’d understand Lucina’s desperate need to save Chrom.

But, Lucina reminded herself, she couldn’t afford to lose focus. The question wasn’t of what Robin was now but of what she would become. She couldn’t let the sight of a younger, happier Robin distract her from the encroaching reality of the fell dragon.

Though Emmeryn was safe now. The world would live. Perhaps this time Robin would get to stay as she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it feels like I'm rushing through the early game, it's because I am, lol. I'm having fun writing this part but the stuff I'm really interested in happens after Lucina joins up. Oh, well.
> 
> Also, there's no way Lon'qu didn't know Lucina was a woman, and the fact that he never said anything is one of the reasons I love him so much. "That's probably none of my business" -Lon'qu Fire Emblem


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucina dashes into the desert upon news of Emmeryn's capture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one. I'm finding the whole Emmeryn's fall thing difficult to write for reasons I can't really put my finger on. Probably because I have so little canon content to work with for the next few chapters, haha.

The question of what to _do_ now that she’d saved the world wasn’t one Lucina had considered. She had almost no marketable skills, besides her sword, and though the war with Plegia was ongoing she was hesitant to join the military. They’d ask about her sword, and without her mask it was just a matter of time before someone noticed her Brand.

So Lucina spent the next two weeks wandering the main roads of the Halidom, doing her best to protect travelers from the Risen that still encroached on the major thoroughfares. She hadn’t meant to accept payment from any of them, intending to camp and hunt on her own, but many were insistent. Before long she had enough for a change of clothes, and some admittedly sorely needed extra supplies to repair her armor.

These kindnesses from the people she saved, their gratitude, was nearly beyond Lucina’s comprehension. In her bleak future, saving people from Risen was her duty as their crown princess and then their Exalt. Though her people had been grateful, they had also looked to her with the expectation of help. Here, they did not know her. She was no princess, merely a guardian who helped and asked for nothing. They may not have known what to do with such kindness, had most of them not met a Shepherd before.

In the night, she slept as she had since shortly after she had taken up the mantle of the Exalt: sitting up, without a fire for fear of giving away her position, Falchion unsheathed and held in a loose grip at her side. She was so used to sleeping against a tree in full armor that it didn’t even register as a discomfort.

Rather than the physical reality of her living situation, it was thoughts of the others that kept Lucina awake. She was wandering the roads mostly out of a vague hope that she might just stumble across one of them one day, ideally her brother or Severa, but she knew it was unlikely. If any of them were in a position to make it to Ylisstol, they would have been there the night of Emmeryn’s attempted assassination. Regardless of how hard she tried not to think about it, a knot of worry sat heavy in her stomach. If the others had not come, it was because something was stopping them.

Lucina missed them all so much, especially Inigo. They had been separated before, but never for this long. She remembered the feeling of his hand slipping from hers as they hurtled through time. They had clung to each other - she had landed with her left hand in bloody tatters from where his nails had dug in - but in the end the sheer power of the divine force had overcome them. She had no idea where he was, or _when_ he was, or even if he had survived the journey. It made her sick with worry.

She could do nothing about this, so she continued to wander.

It was after a couple weeks of this life, one Lucina intended to last as she wandered the halidom looking for her friends, that she heard about Emmeryn’s capture.

The little job, as she thought of it, had started simply - a small wagon, a desperate family, a band of Risen. The father had been about to try to ward them off with a near-broken sword he’d apparently found on the side of the road, and Lucina had launched herself from the bushes.

“Stop!” She cried. They whirled to face her. There was ash on their faces and clothes, and naked fear in their eyes. The groans of the Risen echoed across the road. “Don’t try to fight them. I’ll hold them off; get to safety!”

The mother, up in the wagon with a small child clutched to her chest, opened her mouth to speak, but Lucina was already past them. The Risen here lacked the strength of the ones in her own time. The first, ambling from the woods with smoke pouring from its mouth, had an axe; Lucina dodged its swing easily and cut it neatly in half. 

There were three more: an archer farther back, and two myrmidons. Lucina set her stance and lunged for the nearest. It parried her strike and kicked at her feet. Stumbling, Lucina caught her balance and whirled, beheading the Risen before rearing back and running it through for good measure.

The other swordsman approached from behind and to her left. She heard a twig snap beneath its foot. Lucina turned just in time to see the archer launch an arrow at her. Distracted by the approaching swordsman, she tried to dodge and didn’t quite make it, catching a gash across her upper arm for her mistake. Hissing with pain, she dropped low, hurrying toward the swordsman in a crouch. It made an overhand strike at her, and she dodged neatly to the side before driving Falchion up through its ribs. It vomited smoke into her face; coughing, she dropped again, hoping to avoid more arrows.

She shot back up at the sound of a child’s shriek from the wagon. The archer had turned its bow toward the family, and nearly hit a little boy who had peaked up above the edge. Swearing, Lucina sprinted for the archer.

The Risen already had another arrow nocked and was taking aim. Lacking time to stop the shot, Lucina’s breath came fast as she dropped Falchion and body-tackled the Risen. Aim thrown, the arrow skittered across the dirt, between the wheels of the wagon. With a cry, Lucina drew a knife from the scabbard at the small of her back and drove it through the side of the Risen’s head.

The body below her dissolved into acrid smoke. Panting, she stood, sheathing the knife and picking up Falchion. When she turned back to the wagon, five pale faces stared back at her, full of wonder. “You...saved us,” breathed the father.

“It’s nothing,” Lucina assured them. “I wanted to help. Is everyone okay?”

The mother’s face clouded over again. The father spat into the road. “We lost our home,” he said to the ground. “Ylisstol is gone. Those Plegian dogs sacked the city.”

Lucina felt doused in ice. “Gone?! And...and the Exalt?”

“They took her. Say they'll execute her within the moon.” The mother’s voice cracked on the last word. “Gods know what they’ll do to her. And what of us? Nowhere to go, road crawling with those _things._ Thank you for helping us, young miss, but...mayhaps you oughta be in the army.”

Dumbly, Lucina nodded. “I think...I think so. I...um. Safe travels. I need to go.”

Lucina did not have the strength to run to Plegia, and she did not have a pegasus to fly her there. She pushed herself as fast as she could go, sleeping as little as possible, refusing to stop for more than a few scant hours in the night. She thought she had done it. She thought she had saved them all, that the version of herself who hadn’t been born yet might now have a shot. But as the distance between her and the Plegian border shrank, she grew more certain that everything she had done was for naught. As Naga had warned her before she agreed to venture back into the past: the river of time will always favor its original course.

As she crossed the border into Plegia on one of the major roads to the capitol, it was hard not to notice the lack of soldiers. The border towns should have been crawling with them. Instead, the tiny sliver of magic Lucina had inherited from her mother told her the land she was crossing was blanketed in wards. They made her brain tingle, but didn’t even try to harm her. Alarms, then, letting the caster know someone was coming. Swallowing her dread, Lucina soldiered on.

Moving deeper into Plegia, Ylisse’s grass and forest climate gave way to desert. The sun beat down, heat rising off the sand in shimmering waves, and after a day battling the heat Lucina was forced to travel at night, when the temperature plummeted. In the day, she held her cape over her head to try and block the sun, which didn’t stop the exposed skin of her face burning an angry, painful red.

Unprepared as she was to cross Plegia, she ran out of water after only the first day and night.

The first day without water, sweat poured off Lucina as she tried desperately to arrange herself in some position that would keep the sun off her face while she rested. With her armor on, she imagined she could feel herself cooking in the merciless heat, but she feared the consequences of taking off even her shoulder guards should Plegian soldiers find her. That night, as she struggled to her feet and continued on by the light of the moon, the remaining sweat on her face cooled quickly, leaving her nearly shivering even as she pushed herself to move faster.

By the time the sun came up on the second day Lucina’s head was pounding. She pulled her hair up and back, pinning it tightly to the back of her head to try and keep it off her neck, but the weight of the bun only made her headache worse. To make matters worse, the back of her neck was soon burned as red as her face. Even her the skin on her ears was warm and tender to the touch. Her lips cracked. Desperate to sleep, Lucina curled in on herself tightly, cape over her face, and fell into a restless doze until the plummeting temperature of the night woke her. 

Gasping, she forced herself to continue. She could feel her pulse in her throat, high and fluttery, and despite the heat of the day she found that there was no sweat on her face to freeze. It occurred to her, distantly, that this was a bad sign, but she could not summon the energy to care. She was only another day or so from the capitol, where Emmeryn’s execution was to happen. There was no other option but to force her cramping legs to keep going.

Gradually, her headache deepened, and her stomach started to swirl with nausea. She swallowed it down and kept marching.

As the dawn began, the rising sunlight glinted off something white and metallic in the sand. Startled, Lucina tripped over her own feet, grabbing for Falchion and landing face-first on the ground. The pain of the sand on her burned skin made her gasp, flooding her mouth with sand. She tried to cough but couldn’t seem to get a full breath in. Her head felt like something was rotting inside her skull. Desperate, she tried to rise, but found herself too weak.

 _Get up,_ Lucina thought furiously, but she could not force her arms to move. _Please._ Her eyes burned, but no tears came. 

Consciousness slipping from her, Lucina let out a silent sob. _Mama,_ she mouthed into the sand. _Mama, please._

 

Lucina woke in stages. At first she only aware that there was no sun on the other side of her eyelids, and then that there was no sand against her face. Then she noticed an aching cold on the back of her neck, in the pits of her arms, and the backs of her knees. There was a gentle pressure against her cheek, spreading something cool and wet from the corner of her mouth toward her temple. It relieved the uncomfortable tension in her skin, and she relaxed into the feeling.

“Are you awake?” The voice was strangely familiar, but Lucina couldn’t place it. 

Lucina realized suddenly that the weight of her armor was gone, and her clothes were wet. _Blood?!_ Gasping with sudden panic, her eyes shot open and she lunged to sit up, but barely moved before a pair of strong, gentle hands pressed her back down. “Rest, child. You were nearly dead when we found you.”

The woman leaning over her was frowning sternly. Over her shoulder, Lucina could see the fabric of the tent. Out of the open tent flap she could see the sunlight beating down on the desert sand. She glanced down at her front and found her clothes wet not with blood but with water, kept cool by the spell still crackling along the woman’s hands. The coldness she had felt was bags of ice, secured with twine to her body. “Who…”

“I am Libra,” the woman said, and as she sat back, Lucina saw she was dressed in the loose robes of a priest. “You collapsed not far from where my brothers and sisters and I camped for the day. Heatstroke.”

The robes of a priest -

 _“Libra?!”_ Lucina hissed. 

The priest - not a woman! A future father! - frowned, confused. “I am sorry, have we met?”

 _Not yet,_ Lucina didn’t say. Instead, she tried, “No, I’m sorry, I just - I knew someone with the same name, once. I’m...still a little confused, I think.”

“I can imagine.” Libra’s voice took on a more disapproving tone. “Naga Herself must have guided you to us. Another half hour and you would be dead. What possessed you to march across Plegia with no water?”

Lucina grimaced, chagrined. “I heard about the Exalt, and I…”

“Ah. I see. Well, as I said, Naga must have delivered you from death. Drink, child, and tell me your name.” With a strong arm around her shoulders, Libra helped Lucina into a more upright position and held a cup to her mouth. 

Lucina had never tasted anything so sweet or clear. The grit in her mouth was swept away, and she leaned forward, trying to gulp down more, but Libra eased the cup back. “Sips, child. Gulping like that will only make you vomit.” Lucina nodded, and he brought the cup back to her lips. This time she sipped more carefully, and when she had drunk half the cup, Libra placed it back next to him on the ground and looked at her expectantly.

She smiled weakly. “I...Please call me Marth.”

“The Hero-King, dashing off into the desert and collapsing alone?” Libra asked, eyebrow arching.

Lucina nodded, embarrassed. It was difficult to maintain eye contact with Libra while he looked at her with such focus. 

“Very well, Marth. Why don’t you march with us for the next few days? We are on the same path - assuming, of course, a young woman with the Hero-King’s name and Ylissean armor is on her way to rescue the Exalt.” Somehow, Libra managed to keep any judgment out of his voice. “It would be better than charging the Plegian castle alone, at any rate.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “I...thank you, Libra.”

He smiled brightly at her, and for a moment he looked so perfectly like his future daughter that Lucina had to look away. She stared instead at her hands, fisted in her lap, swallowing harshly against the knot in her throat.

After a moment, Libra placed a small open jar in her hand. In it was a strange gel Lucina hadn’t seen before. “This is aloe,” he explained, dipping a finger in and smearing the gel across her forehead. The gel tingled, cooling the crispy skin of her forehead rapidly. “It will help your sunburn heal. You should try and get some more rest. We’ll keep moving at nightfall.”

Lucina nodded, suddenly more tired than she ever remembered being. Still smiling, Libra eased her back down on the makeshift bedroll, and before he had even resumed applying the gel Lucina was asleep again.

She dreamed of cackling and a familiar voice calling for blood and thunder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't love heatstroke!
> 
> Also the idea of someone as tough as Lucina, who is usually fairly formal with her parents, breaking down and asking for her mama when she's that close to the end has always destroyed me.
> 
> Finally, I have absolutely no idea if there's actually aloe vera in Ylisse, but as a pale-as-paper girl myself it's saved me soooo many times when I've been sunburned. So Lucina has it because I said so.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEY SO UH, it's been a hot 6 months which was NOT my intention, but uh, here we are I guess! And here I am! Sorry!
> 
> We now return to our (can I call it regularly scheduled anymore?) programming, Lucina Gets Pushed Around In The Desert And Doesn't Really Know What's Going On!

Traveling with Libra reminded Lucina of traveling with her friends before they had decided to return to the past. There were three others with him: a priest, Elsen, a war cleric, Lilah, and a Plegian guide called Adri. At first, Lucina had been a bit confused, as she was sure Libra had mentioned brothers and sisters in the plural when she had first awoken, but then she noticed the extra tents the priests did not touch and only glanced at sadly. She was familiar enough with loss to know the look it left.

Despite their melancholy, the priests were good company. Elsen didn’t speak much, but Lilah more than made up for it with stories of the Hero-King that Lucina had never heard before, as well as tactical plans for an assault on the Plegian castle, anecdotes from the cloister she and the others called home, and, to Libra’s chagrin, embarrassing stories from Libra’s training process.

“I’d never seen anyone so quiet before,” Lilah was informing Lucina as she helped apply another layer of aloe to her still-healing sunburn shortly after they settled for the second day after she joined them. “I only came to the cloister a year or so before him, you know, so I had only just started feeling like I had settled. He hadn’t grown his hair out yet, but he had his neck all bandaged, and he was all quiet and handsome and everyone, I mean everyone, our age was a little bit in love with him. All broody like he was.”

Libra was frowning at his tea. He could have been blushing, or it could have been a sunburn. Lucina couldn’t resist a small smile. “Did you go up to him right then?”

“Of course she did,” Elsen chipped in, also grinning. “You know the first thing I ever heard him say?”

“I really wish we could change the subject.” Libra’s tone was edging dangerously close to a whine.

“What?” Lucina asked, shifting her hair obediently as Lilah moved to apply aloe to the back of her neck.

“He was staring at an orange, you know, since he came from farther north where they don’t grow,” Elsen started, and Libra set down his tea in favor of burying his face in his hands with a groan. “And he turned to me, and he said, how do people eat these? They’re so hard to bite into!”

“You’re lying,” Lucina accused, grinning. “No way. Everyone knows how to eat an orange.”

“He’s not,” Libra confessed from behind his hands. “I’d never seen one before.”

Finished applying the aloe, Lilah sat back, still chuckling. “I’ve never seen him so embarrassed since. He still gets this look on his face when he wants to ask a question but isn’t sure if it’ll get him teased. It’s so funny.”

Libra picked his tea back up again and took a sip, tossing his hair a bit too imperiously to really hide his embarrassment. “One would think two people so devoted to Naga would be a bit kinder to newcomers experiencing something for the first time.”

“Whatever you say,” Elsen huffed with a laugh.

“Oh,” Lilah said with a snap of her fingers, “not to forget, there was this one time, Elsen-”

“No!” Elsen yelped, lunging for Lilah across the gap between where they were sitting. Lilah recoiled into Lucina, laughing high and breathless and scrambling to put Lucina between her and Elsen.

“Marth! Help! Fight him off!” 

“I’m not certain I want to get involved, actually,” Lucina demurred, holding as still as she could while Lilah dodged Elsen’s attempts to reach around Lucina and grab her. 

Libra was watching. The lower half of his face was hidden in his cup, but Lucina could see his smile in his eyes, warm and green and terribly familiar. She felt herself smiling back at him. Being around Libra had a strange effect on her. He wasn’t her father, but he was Noire’s, and he’d always been there to take care of all the children when they were sick. It wasn’t unlike standing in front of Emmeryn’s door that night in Ylisstol, the longing that had crept up in her to reach out to a kind adult, to hand her problems back to the original Shepherds. Libra would take them, she knew. Any parent would. That only made it harder. 

It would be okay, she told herself firmly. Once Emmeryn was safe in Ylisstol, Lucina could return her attention to finding her friends and her brother. Just a bit more, and this would finally be over for good.

 

Lucina did not remember how the fight started, or how she got separated from Libra and the others. One moment she spotted Plegian soldiers approaching, and now she was alone on the battlefield, pushed back a step for every two she could take by a seemingly endless horde of Plegians and Risen. 

There had been pegasus knights in the sky last she checked. They weren’t there anymore. Lucina wanted to hope that meant they were off to Ylisstol with the Exalt in tow, but she knew better. 

Finally, she drew near enough to the courtyard to see Emmeryn, high on the executioner’s rock, alone, and beneath her a battle brought to a standstill, the courtyard littered with corpses. Lucina’s heart sank; she was right about the pegasus knights. Captain Phila’s powder-blue hair stood out among the wreckage, and Lucina looked away, bile rising in her throat. 

She couldn’t hear the deal King Gangrel offered Chrom. She could make out her father’s voice but not his reply. Lucina didn’t know if anything she could have said might have changed the outcome. She didn’t even hear Emmeryn’s last words over the blood rushing in her ears.

The Exalt fell. Or, to be more precise, Emmeryn jumped. 

Lucina couldn’t hear the scream that tore out of her throat. Nor could she hear Chrom’s, or Lissa’s. All at once, the silent battlefield leapt back into motion with a roar. Someone grabbed Lucina about her waist, and she fought the arm pulling her backwards until a Risen’s axe fell just where she had been standing. She whirled to face her savior, but they had already slipped back into the fray, just one soldier among many. 

The Plegians weren’t fighting anymore. They were turning against the Risen, but not stopping the Feroxi footsoldiers beating a hasty retreat. Without anything else to do, Lucina swallowed hard around her scraped-dry throat and followed them. At this point, all she could do was make it out of Plegia alive. 

 

Lucina camped for the night with a Feroxi squadron who took one look at her Ylissean armor and insisted on hosting her. She was grateful for a place by the fire, but more so for the wide berth they gave her. They didn’t know the weight of her loss, or that she had doomed the world again, but they could read the melancholy rolling off her in waves. 

“Heavy losses, they’re saying,” a scout was reporting to the squadron’s captain. “The dogs are throwing their weapons down now, but we took a hell of a beating getting to the Capitol. They didn’t want anyone but Prince Chrom and his lot getting to the castle.”

“Khan Basilo is with that group, yes? How do they fare now?” The captain, a stern-looking woman in her early 40s, reminded Lucina of a mix of Khan Flavia and Miriel. Her strict attitude, tempered by kindness, projected an aura of calm. Lucina had been sticking close to her, craving the stillness she brought. 

“The Prince and Princess are safe, as is the Khan, but their tactician…”

Lucina froze. 

The captain was frowning. “The one who hatched the plan to save the Exalt?” 

“Yes,” the scout said. “Apparently Prince Chrom rushed off alone, and his tactician went to find him. She took a grievous blow in his place, and it festered within the hour. There was nothing they could do for her.”

The pit in Lucina’s stomach opened again. She didn’t hear the captain’s reply. Oh, gods, she thought with striking clarity. Without Robin, Walhart would conquer Ylisse before Grima got the chance to, and everyone would die anyway. 

Lucina sat, staring at the strange things in her lap she did not recognize as her own hands, until the sun rose. She didn’t think anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all that time and it's not even that long, but I really wanted to end this chapter on this note, so. Here you go


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to Ylisstol, Lucina finds work.

Over the course of the journey back to Ylisse, Lucina heard several different accounts of Robin’s death. They all agreed with the official report that Chrom had broken formation and Robin had gone to find him, but from there the story got confusing. Some were sure she had taken a blow for him, in the chest or stomach, and bled out in his arms. Others claimed she had been injured fighting her way back to the others with Chrom in tow, and the wound became infected in the Plegian mud. Still others said she had merely taken ill, with no injury at all, and wasted away with fever. The worst theory, in Lucina’s opinion, was that, blaming herself for the failure of her plan to save the Exalt, Robin had taken her own life as penance. 

Similarly jumbled were the stories of the other Shepherds. The only certainties were that nobody but Robin was dead, and the remaining royals were overcome with grief both for their sister and their tactician. Nobody had even seen Princess Lissa in days. 

“I hear Lady Sumia had to be locked into one of the wagons ‘cause she told Prince Chrom she meant to kill him,” a Feroxi soldier marching behind Lucina was saying to another. “One of his own Shepherds, I never would’ve thought.”

“That can’t be right, I heard she ripped a wagon apart with her bare hands when she heard the tactician was dead, they wouldn’t put her in another one,” the other soldier scoffed.

The first hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe they just took her lance and put it in a wagon, so she couldn’t turn it on the Prince.”

“Whose lance did they take?” A third asked, trotting up from behind the two gossips. 

“One of the Pegasus Knights in the Shepherds. Lady Sumia. Apparently she was threatenin’ the Prince.”

The newcomer nodded. “Makes sense. I heard she and the tactician were lovers. No wonder she blames the Prince for losin’ her ladylove.”

Lucina bit her lip, thinking of Cynthia. Hopefully she could find her, wherever she was, and at least deliver the news herself. Cynthia had been so young when everything started. She could barely remember her own mothers, and had been so excited to see them again. Now she could only hope to meet Sumia, if she ever met the Shepherds at all. And all because of Lucina. 

According the captain, the Shepherds had regrouped in a small castle near the Ylissean border to plan their final assault on the Plegian army. If there had ever been hope for a peaceful resolution, Emmeryn and Robin’s deaths had fully doused it. 

“The Plegians are deserting en masse,” the captain announced to the squadron that morning. “We’re not to harm them unless they attack us first.”

“Cowardly dogs!” Shouted a soldier. There was a shout of agreement. 

The captain slammed the pommel of her warhammer on the stone beneath her feet. The sound startled her squadron into silence. After a moment she said, “It is not cowardly for the Exalt’s sacrifice to move your heart. Out of respect for her final wishes, and to prevent continued animosity from the Plegian people, we return to Regna Ferox.”

“Will Gangrel not answer for his crimes?” Lucina cried, then clapped a hand over her mouth, startled at the venom in her own voice. Another shout of agreement rose from the soldiers around her. 

“Enough!” The captain roared. Again, the squadron was cowed into silence. “Prince Chrom and his Shepherds will have the Mad King’s head, along with anyone else fool enough to stand with him. But, men! Is it the Feroxi way to attack a peaceful people?”

“No,” chorused the soldiers, though they didn’t sound happy about it. 

“Is it the Feroxi way to answer a surrender with the blade?”

“No!” The soldier’s voices sounded a bit more sure. 

“Men! Is it the Feroxi way to fight without honor?”

This time the shout of agreement carried no words, just a clamor. The captain smirked, satisfied, as the men stomped their feet and rattled their weapons in their sheaths. Lucina, swept up in their enthusiasm, lent her own voice to the call. 

 

As soon as the Feroxi army crossed into Ylisse, Lucina took her leave of them. She had no interest in returning to Ferox, and if she wanted reliable information about the wellbeing of the Shepherds besides Robin, the Capitol would be the place to get it. At least there they would announce Emmeryn’s funeral. 

By the time Lucina arrived in Ylisstol, reconstruction was already well underway. The bulk of the Ylissean army had returned a few days prior, as they had been fighting closer to the border than the Feroxi squadron Lucina had joined, and each street had an officer directing civilians and soldiers to clean debris off the streets and take note of which buildings could be salvaged following the Plegian sacking. 

Lucina approached the third such officer she saw. “Ser, may I be of assistance?” 

The officer, a man in his late 30s, glanced her up and down. “You a soldier?”

“Uh, more of a mercenary.” Lucina rubbed self-consciously at the back of her neck, avoiding eye contact. 

“Close enough. There’s a group of soldiers lifting the heavier debris the next street over, helping move it to a centralized location so the architect’s guild can figure out what’s usable in the reconstruction. Join up with them and there’s a meal and a bed in it for you.”

“Thank you!” With a quick bow of her head, Lucina trotted off to join the soldiers moving the rubble. 

The group Lucina joined consisted of three women and two men. They welcomed her, pairing her off quickly with a footsoldier named Maesie who had been stationed near the border as a guardswoman before the war. Maesie was shorter than Lucina, far stockier, and quite talkative. 

“You join up for some food?” Maesie asked conversationally as they rolled a chunk of masonry onto a tarp. “Not to be rude or nothin’, but you look like you could use it.”

“Uh,” Lucina said helpfully, picking up part of the tarp to drag it along. 

Maesie continued as though Lucina hadn’t made any noise. She didn’t even grunt as they started to drag the tarp toward the end of the street. “I mean, you’re strong, sure, but you’re awful skinny. What did you say your name was, again?”

Lucina hesitated, then played it off as a grunt of effort. “Marth.”

“Marth? For real?”

“My parents thought I would be a boy, and they wanted me to be like the Hero-King,” Lucina answered truthfully. She left out the part where her parents had a boy and didn’t bother naming him Marth. 

When they got the tarp to the end of the street and rolled the stone back off it, Maesie stretched her shoulders with a crack. “Well, Marth. You ever consider putting your hair up when you’re workin’?”

“I…” Lucina trailed off, not sure how to answer. The truth was that Severa had always done that for her, braiding her hair into elaborate styles or pinning it securely to her head. In return, Lucina would hold Severa’s jaw carefully in one hand and gently line her eyes with her kohl pencil. Even after the world ended, even the morning after Severa’s mother died, even just before they stepped through time, Lucina and Severa had helped each other get ready, quiet and alone in Lucina’s quarters. A pang of loneliness swept through Lucina. Nobody had touched her hair in months, now. “I’m kind of hopeless at styling my own hair, actually. I can do other people’s, but my own always ends up a mess.”

Maesie shrugged. From a bag around her waist, she produced a deep green ribbon. “My sister gave me this, wrapped a birthday gift with it year before last. I held onto it during the fighting, like a good luck charm, but since my family made it through I don’t need it anymore. You can have it to tie your hair back, if you want.”

“That’s so kind,” Lucina said, touched. “It’s important to you, though. I couldn’t possibly.”

“Don’t be all noble on me,” Maesie said, rolling her eyes. “You’re not actually the Hero-King. Tie your hair back, weirdo.”

Smiling, Lucina took the ribbon and tied her hair back tightly at the nape of her neck. 

 

Over the next week, working with the reconstruction, Lucina met many soldiers and civilians like Maesie. Her food, and a cot in the corner of one of the barracks still standing, came for the work; but when she had need of anything, someone leapt to offer it to her. Touched, she kept all their little gifts in her pack at the foot of her bed: a sewing needle and dingy wool thread, a fist-sized chunk of soft rose-scented soap, the hair ribbon from Maesie, a hand-carved wooden spoon with a singe on the handle from being dropped in a cookfire the year previous. Lucina hadn’t realized how much she’d been moving through this time like a ghost, taking nothing and leaving only footprints, but she was finally starting to feel like a person who lived here. 

She worked with Maesie clearing out major streets and buildings marked for repair for the full first week. Maesie chattered the whole time. Lucina had no idea how she had enough breath for it. It reminded her of Cynthia, which would start her heart aching all over again, but the familiarity of it, Maesie’s easy friendship, eased her more than she could say. 

At the end of the week, town criers on every street corner rang discordant bells and announced the death of Mad King Gangrel of Plegia. Prince Chrom and his Shepherds, they called, had recovered the body of Her Grace the Exalt, and would return triumphant in three days’ time to bury her. The war had ended, and long live Chrom of House Ylisse, their new Exalt, who led them to victory. 

Maesie caught Lucina’s melancholy half-smile at the news and elbowed her gently. “You lose someone in the fightin’?”

“Yes,” Lucina admitted. “I wanted blood at first, in return. But now I’m just glad it’s over.”

Maesie nodded sympathetically. “I can’t imagine how the Prince is feelin’. It were never any secret, how close they were. Least he can give her a proper burial now.”

“That’s true. But I wonder…” Lucina trailed off. “Did you hear them mention a funeral for the Shepherd’s tactician?”

“No?” Maesie frowned. “I mean, a tactician wouldn’t get the same burial as an Exalt. They probably buried her in Plegia or somethin’. She was from there, and I’d sure hate to be hauling a dead body around in a desert all this time.”

Lucina hummed, and gestured for them to get back to work. Maesie had a point, of course. Like as not, the Shepherds had buried Robin in the fortress where they had regrouped, with a private funeral. Still, Lucina thought it strange that her father wouldn’t have at least a memorial for her back at Ylisstol. 

Then again, since Robin was Plegian, it was unlikely that many of the Ylissean people would mourn her anyway. Perhaps it was for the best that mourning be kept to the Shepherds. Lying in her cot that night, Lucina wondered if Robin had any family alive to mourn her, too. 

 

Mid-afternoon of the third day after the announcement of the end of the Plegian war, the Shepherds returned to Ylisstol. The biggest crowd Lucina had ever seen, larger even than the crowd of spectators in Arena Ferox, gathered near the partially-rebuilt gates to catch a glimpse of their victorious Prince and the decorated heroes at his side. 

Rather than try to elbow her way to the front of the crowd, Lucina climbed to the second floor of one of the buildings lining the road to the castle and sat in the shattered window, letting her feet dangle over the crowd below. Others clustered in windows above and below her, stretching along the street. Some of the windows still had shutters over them, and Lucina watched as curious citizens threw them open, leaning out and waving handkerchiefs over the crowd. 

The first indication that the Shepherds had arrived were the two pegasi swooping over the crowd before turning back to land outside the gates. Lucina saw Cordelia’s bright hair streaking behind her, and felt a pang again for Severa, wherever she was. From her spot on the second floor, she couldn’t see Sumia’s face, but she did see a bandage on her arm while she waved to the crowd. 

Frederick was the first through the gate. His posture, as ever, was perfect. He smiled gently to the crowd, waving back at them, the image of knighthood. Behind him streamed the other Shepherds: Sully shouting back to the crowd in triumph, Cordelia and Sumia again, their pegasi walking now, Miriel with a tome clutched to her chest like she was worried someone would take it from her. Vaike was throwing rice into the crowd like he thought he was at a wedding, Lon’qu at his side resolutely not looking at him. Lissa and Maribelle shared a mount, and while Lissa had a pallor to her, she seemed healthy, to Lucina’s relief. 

Last through the gate before the two remaining wagons from their caravan was Chrom, resplendent on a gleaming white horse, the sun shining off his armor and Falchion’s golden hilt at his hip. Olivia sat behind him, one arm wrapped carefully around his waist, waving to the crowd, her nut-brown skin set off against the white of the horse and the pale pink of her hair. 

Seeing her parents healthy and whole loosened the knot in Lucina’s gut. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about how shortening the Plegian war may mean her parents wouldn’t have time to get to know each other, but here they were, waving to the shocked crowd. Lucina supposed this was one way to get the people used to the idea of Chrom courting before there was an official announcement. She chuckled to herself. Frederick must have hated the idea. 

The wagons passed, one robed in black cloth and likely carrying the Exalt home at last. The next day would be her funeral, and she’d be laid to rest in the family crypt. Today, though, the air was full of bittersweet relief and the fierce, hard-won joy of a war at an end. Lucina breathed deep. The last of the Shepherds disappeared as the crowd melted together in their wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maesie is named for a friend of mine's cat, who is very dumb and very friendly. Her full name is Brigadier General Maes Hughes, but I figured her nickname would work better for this fic. 
> 
> Also, we're in a bit of a transitionary period here! Promise I won't make you read two years' worth of Lucina working on the reconstruction of Ylisstol, but the girl's gotta do something while she's waiting for the second part of the game to start.


End file.
